Part XXV

Part XXV

As we passed the gates leading into Island Home, I mumbled under my breath, to see if anything had gotten through. Nothing lit up, so I had to assume nothing had.

When Carl and I got back to my place, the Old Man was curled at Em's feet purring. Em herself was just sitting there staring straight ahead, oblivious to everything. I took a glance in the direction she was looking, but there wasn't anything but window.

I asked her if she wanted me to turn off the water, she nodded almost imperceptible and I went back into the hall and flipped the switch on the bannister. By the time I got back to the kitchen, she was gone and the Old Man was awake and hungry. I took care of him first.

As the Old Man lit into his tuna and potion, I opened the fridge and grabbed a couple of beers. When I turned to Carl to hand him one, he was frozen, staring at the exact same spot Em had been. When she'd left, she must have passed through the window. The change in temperature had caused the water in the air to condense and what was left was a message, a message that had been written on the window from the outside. I guess Em has seen who'd written it, and that's why she wanted out.

On the window, set against the condensation were the words, I'M WAITING.

Carl downed his beer in record time and asked me WTF was going on. I tried to explain to him how Em had lowered the temperature of the window when she passed through, but then I realized he didn't see EM, so he just stared at me like I'd crapped in his shoes.

Who's EM?

You know, the poet. Emily Dickinson.

Carl just walked to the fridge and grabbed another beer and headed for the living room. He called back to me like a hurt child before rounding the corner.

You don't have to tell me, but there's no reason to an ass about it.

The next morning, while Carl was still sleeping it off in the spare bed room, I loaded the van with everything, including the Old Man, his litter box and his jug of juice.

I scribbled a note for Carl and left it on the last bottle of beer in the fridge where I could be sure he'd find it. I flipped the water on before I closed the back door and locked it. I hated to leave Carl like this, but it was better this way. He'd hate for a few days, but then he'd sober up and forgive me while he raided my freezer and played my XBOX until his eyes bled.

I pulled off the road in Dothan, Alabama with the intent of buying some pecans, but when I got to where Troy Simms Nuts was supposed to be, I pulled into a dead parking lot. I'd blinked for five years and now it was gone. Something inside shriveled and died knowing that I'd never taste a good pecan again. That's when I remembered that I'd forgotten to stop in Chilton for peaches and the whole day felt like it couldn't get any worse.

But, while I was here I took the opportunity to chuck some of the Old Man's finest creation out into the grass by the lot's edge. Even with a charcoal filter, the van was small. I couldn't be sure, but it looked like there were pieces of finger nail in one. I guess it took time to pass fingernails.

Getting back in the Van, I slammed the door a little harder than I intended and the Old Man gave me a hiss, just before I heard Carl wake up screaming.

I turned around, and there he was, bleary eyed sleeping in my back forty.

What the Hell are you doing here Carl?

Car rubbed his eyes and reached down into the cooler near the foot of the bed and pulled out the beer with the note on it.

I got your note.

Carl cracked the top off and climbed up to the passenger seat. He pushed the Old Man off the chair before the Old Man had time to react and sat down. The Old Man looked back at him in sheer confusion to his abrupt arrogance. Then the Old Man gave him that look that I knew would require much diligence on my part to keep from coming true, before he turned and showed Carl his ass as he wandered to the bed in back.

All of this took place in a split second, none of which Carl even noticed. When I looked at him, the beer was half gone and there was a grin on his face that killed most of my anger.

I sure do love a road trip Aubrey. So, where are we going?

Straight to Hell.

I turned the engine over and launched back onto the road, while out of the corner of my eye I watched Carl's grin die.